


I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas

by timeforsomethrillingheroics



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Christmas AU, F/M, and the rest of our boys, set sometime in season six probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 06:57:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeforsomethrillingheroics/pseuds/timeforsomethrillingheroics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>December first someone started putting mistletoe up all over the clubhouse in a silent but obvious reminder of the upcoming holiday season. At first no one really paid much attention to it. A hint of green hiding inconspicuously over a doorway or wrapped in the twinkling multi-colored lights that Ratboy had insisted they put across the front counter wasn't really noteworthy. </p><p>They had bigger things to worry about than a misguided member suffering from an overabundance of holiday cheer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas

December first someone started putting mistletoe up all over the clubhouse in a silent but obvious reminder of the upcoming holiday season. At first no one really paid much attention to it. A hint of green hiding inconspicuously over a doorway or wrapped in the twinkling multi-colored lights that Ratboy had insisted they put across the front counter wasn’t really noteworthy.

They had bigger things to worry about than a misguided member suffering from an overabundance of holiday cheer.

Someone would spot it, rip it from wherever it was tethered and toss it haphazardly into the trash where it would wilt sadly until the entire can was thrown into the dumpster.

But when it started happening more frequently and in increasingly obvious places SAMCRO had to draw the line. They might be working out of an ice cream shop now; they might have been bullied into putting up a sad, battered looking tree in the back corner of chapel, and they might have been forced to endure the sound of Bobby belting out Christmas carols whenever the front bell jingled, but they damn sure didn’t have to put up with the epidemic of mistletoe that was sneaking through their front door.

Members made it their own personal mission to get rid of the small spots of green hiding in increasingly crafty places around the clubhouse - treating the eradication of the small holiday plant like a calling from god himself, but every time one of them managed to take a piece down a new sprig mysteriously appeared in a different location.

No one knew who was doing it - just that they kept showing up.

They hadn’t set up internal surveillance in their new residence yet, and it felt like overkill to rush the process now just to see who was playing elf. Even if one or two of them grumbled under their breath that it would almost be worth it to catch whoever it was in the act.

Each club member reacted to the pieces of holiday spirit differently.

Every time Jax saw a new branch he’d rip it down without ceremony - tossing it out the front door with a little more force than was necessary before continuing on his way.

Chibs would roll his eyes and avoid it point blank, flatly refusing to walk near enough to the small plant to dispose of it. He’d yell for whoever was in hearing range to take care of it for him, point at the offending greenery without so much as a please or thank you and then saunter along in the opposite direction.

If Bobby spotted the small rounded leaves he’d grumble about being surrounded by children - words contrary to the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Tig would shake his head all the way to the trashcan, muttering ‘at least learn the difference between mistletoe and holly idiot’ under his breath.

Whenever Happy saw a leafy twig hiding somewhere he’d let out a wide grin and leave it be.

Juice ignored it completely - acting as if it wasn’t there at all.

\- - - 

The street was silent and unusually frigid for North California, even that late in the year when a lone motorcycle made it’s way downtown - stopping only when it had reached a small parking lot connected to a half finished store front.

The motorcyclist on top of the bike backed it up to the side of the building and then nudged it’s kickstand down with tip of a steel toed boot. As he slid off his bike his cut was momentarily illuminated under the dim glow of a porch light that had been left on to discourage people from tagging the half painted window frames - as if who was renting the property wasn’t enough of a discouragement in of itself.

The biker took a moment to stretch out his numb fingers, cold despite the leather riding gloves they were wrapped in before he reached up a hand and unbuckled the helmet covering his face, lifting it over his head and slinging it over the handlebar of his Harley. His eyes quickly tracked up and down the street - a reflex born of habit more than genuine concern before he turned and walked to the front door.

It was past midnight and the clubhouse was dark and empty looking, but Juice couldn’t sleep and he had a new bike that was practically begging for modifications.

Besides, if he had a choice of being at home alone or being here alone he’d take the here any day of the week, new and improved candy parlor or not. At least it didn’t feel quite as empty as his apartment.

If he was at the clubhouse he could turn the lights and radio on and pretend someone was in the next room laying over the front counter smoking a blunt or passed out upstairs in one of the half finished guest rooms. Which is exactly what he planned on doing as soon as he was done pulling the key from the lock and placing it back on the ground, putting the pot it had been hidden under on top of it.

After all, it was better than twiddling his thumbs at his apartment and dealing with insomnia the only way he knew how; a fist full of pills and a fifth of a liquor bottle.

\- - - 

When he got inside and flicked on the light switch the ideas for the evening he had planned shifted.

He looked around the room and raised his eyebrows at the twinkling Christmas lights that were ringing the walls - creating long, fake icicles made out of strung together blue orbs.

"Well, that’s new" he muttered, turning in a circle to survey the entire effect.

"And a huge waste of energy."

He couldn’t help being vaguely impressed with whoever had jerry rigged them to turn on at the flick of a switch though, even if he wasn’t in the holiday spirit. That must have taken planning. And was probably going to be a pain in the ass to fix.

He was looking around for the outlet they were plugged into and wondering which one of the guys had gone to the store and bought a trash bag worth of fairy lights when he noticed a small splash of green hanging blatantly down from a nail someone had tacked into the center of the ceiling.

He looked at it - scrubbed a hand over the bottom half of his face, looked away, and then looked at it again.

"Seriously?" he finally said into the still air, running a hand through his Mohawk in bewilderment. "What’s the point dude? You have to notice they keep getting taken down."

Sighing, Juice rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and then glanced back at the offending mistletoe.

"Right" he finally grunted, shaking his head and heading into the hallway.

It took him longer than he expected to find the closet that had the step stool shoved in the back. Everything was jumbled haphazardly together in one room or another, half in and half out of unlabeled boxes or strewn across the ground where someone had obviously rooted through looking for something. Moving your entire operation - especially after your first house had been blown to bits, was never a clean or neat job.

Sighing down at the mess he lifted the metal ladder onto his shoulder, said “I don’t get it” and braced it there before walking back to the front of the store.

'Unofficial midnight cleaning crew incoming' he muttered ruefully under his breath as he made his way to where the mistletoe was hanging. Well, I guess taking down Christmas lights beats scraping puke and cum off the floor he thought with a small grin, thinking back about his prospect days as he looked up at the offending plant and shook his head.

"Out of all the pranks you could pull, you picked a pretty lame one to stick with" he said to the still air as he placed the step stool down on the tiled floor and started to climb upwardst.

He had a hand reaching out to snatch down the mistletoe when a voice behind him said “This is actually a thing?” in an mildly interested tone. “Jax mentioned it a couple weeks ago but I thought he was just messing with me.”

Juice nearly toppled off the ladder.

"Hey doc" He croaked out, hunching sheepishly before carefully turning to face her. "You scared the crap out of me."

"Why are you putting up mistletoe?" she asked, a smile making her voice warm instead of accusatory.

"Oh I’m no-" he started to say, but she had walked forward as she was talking and suddenly Juice was having trouble thinking in full sentences.

"I didn’t see your car" he said dumbly, entirely too focused on how close she was standing.

"Parked out back" she replied; voice soft, like she was worried someone was sleeping in the next room.

Juice stared at her for a minute, mesmerized by the way the soft Christmas lights made her look like she was glowing before catching himself and hurriedly taking a step back and almost falling off the ladder. Again.

"Sorry" Tara said, putting up her hands in apology but not moving away. "I was just picking up some paperwork I forgot about. I didn’t mean to interrupt."

"Oh you’re not interrupting anything I was just taking do-" Juice started to reply in a rushed voice before cutting off again when Tara moved a step closer. 

He really needed to work on the hugely inappropriate crush he was nursing on his presidents old lady he thought wildly, unconsciously shifting backwards again and swaying precariously on the edge of the ladder; eyes focused on Tara despite himself.

"It’s fine, I wont tell the guys" She said soothingly, completely misinterpreting his panic.

"Uh, okay" Juice said, still leaning as far backwards as he could go.

There was a reason he avoided being in the same room with her if he could help it and that reason was he turned into an slack-jawed idiot when she was around.

She was standing close enough that he could smell her from where he was leaning. She smelled intoxicating, pine needles and peppermint.

He caught himself wondering what she had been doing before she showed up, if the peppermint was from her kids or if she just liked candy canes before mentally shaking himself and starting to look for escape routes.

He was edging toward the floor when Tara let out a smile he had no frame of reference for and said “Well, since it’s here…” before trailing off and motioning him down with the crook of her finger.

"What’s here?" he murmured, distracted by the way the Christmas lights reflected in her eyes, following her finger forward without thinking about why.

Then Tara’s arm was around the back of his neck and he was completely off the ladder and he decided he might be having a heart attack, or maybe it was just that he couldn’t breathe because Tara’s face was almost brushing against his and he couldn’t inhale let alone think.

He could feel the soft material of her sleeve slide along his skin and the warmth of her hand as she cradled the back of his head and gently pulled him closer. Their eyes locked for a split second before hers skirted away and she leaned closer, moving past him and then he could feel the soft brush of skin against his cheek and objectively he knew that’s where Tara was kissing him, almost at the corner of his mouth, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. It was too large and too foreign for words and he thought maybe he should do or say something, like ‘thank you’ but before he could move Tara had pulled away with a small grin and said “Merry Christmas Juice” into the silence.

Juice knew he should probably stop smiling, or at least say something in return but he couldn't form words and by the time he had it together enough to do more than croak ‘you too’ Tara was already turning around and heading out the door.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there before he quietly returned the step ladder to the closet he found it in, absentmindedly whistling along to “White Christmas," returned to the front room and glanced up at the mistletoe hanging there one last time, a shocked grin still wide and honest across his face before turning out the light and stepping into the parking lot.

After he left a hand reached out to turn the radio up and a different voice started humming along to the words. Smiling in satisfaction to himself, Ratboy gently stepped out of his hiding place and slung a bag of lights over his shoulder, intent on decorating chapel before the night was done.

After all, if he didn’t do it, who would?

**Author's Note:**

> Ratboy is my little Christmas Angel, looking out for his brothers one and all.
> 
> This is the first obligatory Christmas fic of the season I've written, but you bet your ass it's not going to be the last.
> 
> As always comments, both negative and positive are greatly appreciated.
> 
> Unbetaed so pointing out any mistakes I've missed would be a huge help!


End file.
